


Oh, you fill my head with pieces of a song i can't get out

by invictaria



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1D Orlando, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, november 2014, post Today Show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invictaria/pseuds/invictaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened in the last few days is so hypocritical and demeaning of every single thing Zayn is and does and yet the world hasn’t stopped spinning, people barely noticed something so inherently wrong happened, and Liam can’t protect him from the jackals any more than he could shield him from the fever, even if Zayn means the world to him.</p><p>(About what happened on Today Show and after)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, you fill my head with pieces of a song i can't get out

Zayn has been asleep since the moment they got in the car.

It’s not uncommon for him to conk out after a concert, really, but today is not really the same and Liam can’t help being anxious, because he’s been sick for days and he didn’t really feel all that better, but he _had_ to come anyway since that stupid question from the asshole of Today Show, and it was so _cold_ outside.

He’s curled up like a little boy, his bony knees planted against the seatbacks, hands covered from his sweater to almost his fingertips folded close to his heart; his cheek is smushed against Liam’s thigh, and his nose is almost touching the tiny patch of skin left exposed from Liam’s upturned hoodie, and Liam feels a bit crazy because the only thing he can do is touch his hot forehead, the profile of his jaw, the soft flesh of his lobe, even when the one thought that keeps screaming in his head is that he needs to get him to bed, to shield him from just anything and anyone right now because everything feels like _too much_ , and _why the_ fuck _the hotel is so far away, anyway?_

_You worry too much, babe, I can do it, let me just do it_ Zayn said in the morning, just in the middle of a nasty fit of coughing, shoulders trembling from the force of it while he tried to dress, and really, Liam’d have _loved_ to force him to stay in, bundled up in the covers to either watch a movie or sleep it off, but he _couldn’t_ , because then Zayn _looked_ at him, really looked at him and there was this mix of feelings in his eyes, _resolution_ and _fear_ and _anger_ and _panic_ and _pleading_ , and Liam has never been able to say _no_ to him, to _ignore_ him and his soundless cries for help.

_I need to prove them I’m fine. I need them to see that whatever has been said was bullshit. I need to control the situation because I hate to be on the spot for something like this. I hate to always be on the spot for something like this. I hate that I always have to prove something more, but I won’t let them shit on me like that._

__

_But. But I don’t know if I can do this alone. I don’t know what to do. Please. Please._

And so, instead of fighting, Liam kept his mouth shut and helped him get into his sweater, tied his shoes, and then took his hand and held it until they were due to get on stage.

_I’m here for you. I’m always here for you._

__

It’s a bit ridiculous, really, if Liam just thinks about it.

It’s just a flu, an unexpected fever: nothing they haven’t faced before, honestly. Harry is so used to lose his voice and sneeze all over the place that he doesn’t even worry anymore (also, there’s always Louis who worries for the both of them). And even if they all experienced it, Zayn is always been more… _delicate_ , so to say, so that’s normal too, the fact that something common like flu or a tummy bug would knock him out. It happened before, it will probably happen again, so there’s no point in worrying like that.

It’s just that being asked something like _is your bandmate doing drugs, boys?_ , in that vicious way, contrite expression and sugary tone, like there’s genuine _concern_ behind that kind of question, and not _malice_ and ugliness and intellectual dishonesty, is not an easy pill to swallow. Not when it’s national television and no one bothered to prepare them, not when Zayn is already vulnerable, not when they can’t even reply with a proper _fuck you, you bastard, you don’t even know what you are talking about_ because it would sound defensive and irrationally angry, too rough for boys like them.

It gives a different taste to the whole situation: a sour one, because it really gets things in _perspective_ , and reminds them they have no friends out there, they only have each other to lean on to, and they can’t even afford to get _sick_ , because that’s _not_ what people _expect_ from them, that’s not what people _want_ , and paper dolls like them just can’t get sick.

Liam’s not naive, he gets _where_ the drug talk came from, he gets nobody cares if it’s true or not as long as it sells papers and rises ratings and speculations, he gets why _Zayn_ and not one of them. It adds some “spice” to their image, some more maturity, grown ups problems and all that shit, and what better way to shove it down people’s throats than to pin it to the mysterious, absent _muslim_ boy? In that way, it’s just understandable and reasonable for anyone, because he’s the _bad_ one, the one who wears leather and smokes like a chimney and tweets about Palestine and Ramadan instead of tv shows and football and gossip, and it makes sense that it would be him the first to use drugs, since he has _trouble_ written all over him. Who cares if in reality he’s the sweetest boy, with an heart of gold and the quietest personality, probably the more effortlessly caring among them. Who cares if he’s pale and has lost weight because their work schedule is _crazy_ and he’s just stressed out and a bit homesick. Who the fucking cares, as long as the inattentive observer perceives him as an _other entity_ compared to _them_.

And maybe that’s why Liam spent the whole day feeling so on edge, that’s why he feels like he wants to hold him so close and so tight nobody can’t reach him anymore, that’s why he keeps stroking his face with trembling fingers, with a grace that doesn’t even belong to him: because he _knows_ and he’s so _mad_ and _frustrated_ and _sad_ and Zayn is so _vulnerable_ and _warm_ in his arms and he felt like he _had_ to prove a point, like he actually needed to show people he was actually sick and not doing drugs in some hotel room, like he _owed_ anyone an explanation.

What happened in the last few days is so hypocritical and demeaning of every single thing Zayn is and does and yet the world hasn’t stopped spinning, people barely noticed something so inherently wrong happened, and Liam can’t protect him from the jackals any more than he could shield him from the fever, even if Zayn means the world to him.

Fact is, it’s a little bit heartbreaking to think so much about someone and realizing that so little people can understand the _whys_ and _hows_ behind your feelings.

And it’s not even about the need to be universally _legitimated_ , that crave for validation and approval that accompanied him for so long totally forgotten, like a piece of himself he left behind, on the road to become the person he now _wants_ to be - the partner, the friend, the son, the brother, the man he _aspires_ to be; it’s about the confusion and the disappointment in front of other's blindness, the way his stomach churns whenever Zayn chooses to keep silent instead of joining the conversation like there’s _no point_ , the way his hearts skips a beat whenever Zayn genuinely smiles and his whole face lights up and it’s like the best thing ever happened in the world, especially when he’s smiling _at_ Liam.

It’s not like it’s always all that _bad_ , obviously, and the fans love _them_ and love _him_ , really, but there’s still _so much_ Zayn can’t talk about and sometimes the weight of this injustice threatens to choke Liam on his behalf.

He can’t talk about the fact that he still hasn’t been in Pakistan but he really wants to go there and see what is it like, where the journey of his family began.

He can’t talk about the fact that he’s not the perfect muslim, because he rarely prays five times a day and he smokes and drinks and has bad habits like any other human being, but he still _tries_ (isn’t it the whole point of any kind of religion? Trying?) and he _prays_ everyday nonetheless, when he has some peace and quiet, because he has _faith_ and he still believes Allah is watching out for him.

He can’t talk about the prejudice and sideways glances, the jokes about his complexion and his name and his language and his affiliation with terrorists, the ignorance and the abuse and the gratuitous rudeness, the bullshit and the stereotypes and how ridiculously easy it is to fall for them.

He can’t talk about this stuff because people don’t really want to _hear_ it, don’t want to be reminded of his roots and his beliefs because for them _Islam_ is all about _violence_ and _fear_ and this kind of honesty is rarely appreciated, if _ever_ , and whenever he tried to open up about this topics the shit storm has been _crazy_.

But Zayn also can’t talk about his favourite books and what it feels like to reread Harry Potter when he’s feeling really homesick, and then the kind of music he likes to listen to when he’s on one of his moods, silence and distance wrapped all over him like a blanket.

He can’t talk about the songs he writes and the pranks he plans and the laughs and the tears he shares with them, the meaning of his art and the sketchpad he always keeps close, the pleasure of being able to take care of his family and the rush he gets when he can see they’re happy.

He can’t talk about this stuff even if _that’s_ people _want_ to hear, because he’s not like that, he’s still so reserved and shy and protective of _people_ and _places_ and _things_ that belong to him (which he belongs to), and he can’t just trade his _whole_ _life_ for some crumbs of… What? Recognition? Sympathy? Fairness?

He can’t trust people to handle with care the most intimate things because they’re incapable of handling with at least respect the ones they already know despite his will, so, again, what’s the point? What’s the point of speaking and sharing? What’s the point of being polite and prove your truth with facts and not just words?

What’s the point of honesty and frankness when the only reaction you keep getting is a wrinkled nose and a grimace?

****  


“Liam, we’ve arrived, wake him up.”

Paul’s voice abruptly gets him out of his thoughts.

The car is slowing down, and Zayn curls up even more when Liam’s hand stops over his collarbones, index tapping a few times over his tattoos. His skin is burning up, and Liam wants to cover it with cool kisses.

He’s so relieved they’ve finally arrived to the hotel he almost closes his eyes, worry partially melting off as they stop in the parking lot.

_At least we made it to the end of the day._

__

“Babe. Babe. Wake up, we’re at the hotel.”

Liam’s tone is soothing, or at least it tries to be, even when tiredness makes his voice tremble a bit. Zayn’s answer is a wounded, tiny whine, his eyes squeezed shut as his hand closes over Liam’s wrist and holds it.

“I feel like shit,” he mumbles pathetically, slowly rubbing his cheek against Liam’s thigh. His voice sounds _wrecked_ , like his throat is closing up and barely letting his vocal chords do their work, and Liam moves his thumb against his Adam’s apple, tracing its profile.

“I know, babe. You’re burning up. We need to get you to bed as soon as possible, ok? I promise it won’t take long. Can you get up for me, please?”

Liam keeps whispering like they’re in some sort of bubble, like he doesn’t want to upset Zayn or actually wake him up, because sleep right now seems infinitely better than feeling like crap for a thousand different reasons. He can’t stop touching him even then, and Zayn keeps holding his wrist like it is some sort of anchor.

Zayn sits up with some difficulty, flushed cheeks and shallow breath, and then he blinks a few times, trying to focus on what’s going on.

His eyes are glassy and so very bright, with an hint of gold in them, and Liam kisses the tip of his nose and then, chastely, his open mouth because, even like that, he’s lovely.

“My throat hurts really badly,” he adds, swallowing painfully, eyelashes fluttering for a second before he presses his forehead against the crook of Liam’s neck, dry lips brushing against his skin.

“I know, I know, that’s why we need to go. I’m gonna make you some tea with honey and then it’ll feel better, ok?”

Zayn nods, and then he seeks Liam’s fingers with his hand.

“Thank you for today,” he adds, lifting his head a bit. Like there’s any need to say something like that. Like Liam actually made the situation better.

_Thank you for always been there, for never leaving my side, for getting it and getting me even when nothing makes sense, even my own reasoning._

__

“Don’t be silly,” he says gruffly, squeezing Zayn’s bony fingers. _It’s_ _always_ _me_ _and_ _you_.

“ ‘m not. Thank you.” _I know it’s always me and you, and even when everything feels too much too fast too unfair, that’s what makes it all worth it._

__

“You’re welcome, babe. But now I just need you to get to bed and get better, alright? So we really need to go. C’mon.”

Zayn leans heavily on him on the way to their room, and the warmth of his hand, the consistency of his light weight against his side is what _grounds_ him, at least.

_You are the most special person to me. I don’t get how is it possible for people to be something less than completely enamoured with you once they get to meet you. There’s no one who can compare to you, really, because even when I’m angry and annoyed I still_ adore _you with my whole heart. And I know it’s not enough, I know you deserve the world and more, but that’s the only thing I can do._

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey there :)   
> I'm not really all that good with notes, i just wanted to say that i really really REALLY love Zayn and Liam's the only one who loves him more than I do.  
> I'm sorry if there's too many mistakes, because i'm not used to write in english and it hasn't been betaed :|  
> Thank you so much <3


End file.
